Rosewater
by poignantperfume
Summary: A Minerva McGonagall Romance: During her student days at Hogwarts, young Minerva had eyes for only one- Sylvia Sterling.


Her name was Sylvia Sterling and she was the most beautiful young witch at Hogwarts. But there was something odd about her. Something you believed you could figure out if you really put your mind to it, but in the end something you could never put your finger on. When everyone bowed their heads in reverence at the news of the death of classmate, Dina Glass, she kept her head up. She believed it was more reverent to look her straight in the ghostly eyes than to cast gaze towards Hell. She had a penchant for loosing things, too, and so she had strung a glossy red ribbon through her wand and kept it tied around her wrist at all times. Sylvia always wore the collar of her robes erect rather than flat. Her pink handkerchief always smelled of rosewater. She wore her tie in a double folded manner- making it more like jabot than anything else. She kept the top 2 buttons of her cardigan perpetually undone seemingly to catch the eyes of the boys… but she never paid a one of them any attention in her seven years there.

However she did pay very special attention to one of her classmates.

Minerva McGonagall was relieved the moment she entered her first year at Hogwarts. Eleven years old, confused, and torn by her parents' tumultuous marriage, the castle was her haven. She was looking for nothing but peace of mind. She didn't know there was anything else she wanted at the time. She found solace in the chapters of her textbooks and the isles of the library, in her cat, Whisper, and in the pages of her diary. Her diary was blank when she arrived and she could never have predicted the incredible story that would fill it over the next seven years. Minerva was quiet, shy, enigmatic, and was an expert at escaping the interests of boys. Although she didn't quite notice this last talent until her third and fourth years when everyone was entering their teenage years and beginning to pair off- boy-girl, boy-girl. She figured that she wanted that too… but at the same time she didn't. _But what alternatives were there?_ She asked herself.

Sylvia Sterling was more cunning than Minerva. She had matured quickly and early. She was considered "experienced" although she'd never paired off boy-girl, boy-girl. She never paired off with anyone, but the way she walked, held herself, and her advanced knowledge of the rudimentary facts of life, gave another impression. Not only was she learned in life, but she was a spectacular student- even better than Minerva in several subjects. Both of the girls were top of their class. Minerva admired her deeply. In potions, she couldn't help but watch in awe at how precisely, passionately, and perfectly she poured her coughing potion. A mask of rust colored smoke hid her face minutes before the others in the class. Minerva watched her perfect visage reemerge slowly as her coughing fit sent the cloud swirling off towards her own desk. Minerva coughed as well.

It wasn't until their fifth year that they spoke to one another outside of classroom scenarios. Minerva had turned sixteen and she was beginning to realize that she was quite different from her other female classmates. It was on the Quidditch field, after an exciting victory that she first realized it- _really_ realized it. It came in one swift thought: _I would much rather _play _Quidditch_ _than _watch_ the boys who play Quidditch. _She had begun putting together all the clues that Sylvia had been leaving her the past couple of years. She smiled at her… in a _certain way._ And she looked at her… in a _certain way. _In passing, she'd gently brush her arm… again… in a _certain way. _The McGonagall clan was a long line of ministers with cast-iron morals and Minerva was brought up staunchly Presbyterian. Though she worshiped magic, she still remained religious in her own way. And this made the fact harder- the fact that she was deeply attracted to Sylvia. She had deep green eyes, hair as black as the night, and skin as soft and pure as melted pearl. She dared not progress to description of her body! Forsooth, that would be egregious and shameful!

"She's darling, isn't she?" cooed Sylvia to her mates, Rosemary and Annette, in the Ravenclaw common room one evening. "She's brilliant." offered Rosemary nonchalantly. "She won that Transfiguration award or something." added Annette with equal disinterest. They didn't quite understand the extent to which the adjective "darling" was stretching in Sylvia's mouth. She was starry-eyed, twirling the red ribbon on her wand around her thin acrobatic fingers. Her friends were confused… and worried.

"I've been thinking about this for such a long time. All the details. All the ins and outs- the ups and downs. It's all I do. Think of her. I just needed to tell someone, Professor." Minerva finally was confessing her feelings to her best friend, mentor, and confidant at Hogwarts- Albus Dumbledore. She tightly hugged a pile of books she was about to return to the library to her exasperated chest.

"_The Ethics of Transfiguration_ by Reginald Horncrow." Prof. Dumbledore read the title of the book on the top of her pile with approval.

"Didn't you hear what I just said, Professor?" questioned Minerva, still too ashamed to meet his gaze. "I think I love her." There was a minute of silence.

"And I once loved _him_." stated Prof. Dumbledore summoning with his wand a framed painting of a strapping young wizard from his desk. He left her with the thought and exited his office.

It was January the next time a trip to Hogsmeade came about. Prof. Dumbledore was at the school gates reading off the rules for students making the trip. Sylvia was late. She was running from the Ravenclaw common room to the gates while trying desperately to get her winter coat on and over her shoulders. Just as she ran past the potions room, she stopped and doubled back. Minerva was sitting there, practicing a curing elixir. A blue glow emerged from the cauldron and began to light up her already blue eyes and cheekbones- then it hiccupped and fizzled away in failure. She was obviously frustrated.

"You've used far too many doxy eggs." noted Sylvia as she entered the classroom and noted the half empty vial.

"Oh," Minerva chirped. She was embarrassed to have been seen botching up a potion by her unknowing inamorata. Instantly, a blush poured into her cheeks and she held her head down in hopes that Sylvia wouldn't notice.

"You look awfully irritated with all that." admitted Sylvia, "Why don't you come to Hogsmeade? They're just about to leave."

Minerva almost said yes, but stopped herself, "Oh. You know… I don't really know anyone who's going. Most of my mates are up in the Gryffindor common room studying for… everything…"

"Come with me." Insisted Sylvia, "Be my 'date', if you will."

Minerva couldn't help but release a tiny giggle. "Well… alright." She agreed. "Do I have time to get my coat?"

"Erm… they're leaving right now. We're late actually… take mine."

Before Minerva could object, Sylvia had draped her coat over her shoulders sending a shiver down both of their spines.

Minerva McGonagall could almost cry. Sylvia looked so beautiful walking next to her amidst the ravenous snow flurries. Her red ribbon and tie and undone buttons seemed to compliment the quirks of Hogsmeade. _She is so remarkable_, thought each girl of the other. Sylvia had every achievement Minerva ever accomplished memorized and could rattle them off in her sleep: Prefect, Head Girl, Transfiguration Today's "Most Promising Newcomer" award winner, top grades, and not to mention the Quidditch awards. She thought this and shivered with excitement. Minerva suspected it was the harsh January weather and quickly put her coat back over her shoulders. Sylvia had a better solution. She put a hand around Minerva's waist, gently pulled her to her side, and draped the coat around the both of them. Minerva turned her head away to smile. She was positive that Sylvia would be driven away from her if she knew her feelings.

They walked along saying not a word. Simply looking at their boots, occasionally catching each other's gaze, and then quickly looking back down.

"Do you-"

"Would you-"

They spoke at the same time then stopped. Minerva nodded towards Sylvia.

"This place over here, coming up on our right… I hear they have great hot cocoa. Would you like a cup?" asked Sylvia. Minerva said yes and they walked out of the cold.

It was a small, dark building. Everything was wooden- the floors, the furniture, the wall, even the utensils, apparently. It was noisy with a crowd of regulars at the bar and there were lots of crooks and crannies filled with tiny tables and chairs. Around one corner, two napkins arose to set a table for the girls and quickly took their orders. Each of their hot cocoas came with a chocolate frog.

"Who did you get?" asked Minerva as Sylvia unwrapped her frog and looked at her card.

"Merlin again… how about you?"

Minerva unwrapped hers. "Oh this is new… Laverne de Montmorency," she read, "'Witch who invented a large number of…" she stuttered, "Love Potions.'" Minerva looked at Sylvia and blushed immediately. But before she could turn her head to hide it once again, Sylvia pulled her face toward her own and kissed her quickly.

Both girls sat there for a few minutes in silence before Minerva returned the affection. She traced Sylvia's face and lips with a trembling finger, held her chin, and began smothering her in kisses. When she stopped, she began to cry. Sylvia asked her what the matter was. Minerva explained to her the feelings that she'd had for so long and how much she'd struggled between her affections and her morals. Sylvia sympathized and told Minerva that she wasn't alone- that she'd gone through that her second year at Hogwarts.

"S-so early?" Minerva sniveled. Sylvia nodded and kissed her hands.

"Shoosh now," Sylvia calmed her down, "Wingardium leviosa." she whispered as she sent a warm chocolate dipped marshmallow toward Minerva's mouth. She opened up, ate it, smiled, and thanked her.

Back in her room that night, Minerva slipped under her covers,

"Lumos," she whispered as she pulled out her diary and began to write: _January 4, 1924: You'll never believe what happened today…_

Hogwarts rules didn't explicitly state that witches couldn't go with witches or that wizards couldn't go with wizards, but it was the 1920's and Sylvia and Minerva both knew that their growing relationship was something to be kept secret. They picked cherries to brew invisibility potions so that they could go for walks hand in hand. They made excellent, if not naughty, use of the Room of Requirement. They grew strong together. Minerva took extensive advice from Prof. Dumbledore and learned to be as strong as him at concealing feelings and forbidden romance. Both girls continued to be top of their class- until Sylvia's parents learned of them. Minerva could never really come to terms with what had happened. Sylvia couldn't bear a formal goodbye.

At the end of the first term of their sixth year, Sylvia knew that her parents arranged for her next term to be at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic to instill in her more conservative values. On the last night that she knew they'd be together, she took Minerva once again to the Room of Requirement. The door appeared out of the cold stone wall and they entered the room. There was a huge ornamental fireplace on the right wall of the chamber that they had seen glowing under the door in the corridor. Everything was draped in deep crimson silk and bright red and black flames flickered from candles suspended in mid-air. Opposite the fireplace was a giantess-sized bed, laden with gold trim and blood red velvet throw. The Room became the ultimate romantic dream for the two of them that night as Sylvia lay Minerva on the mattress and made passionate love to her. They writhed in bliss for hours, their sweat turning into rosewater and making the room smell sweet.

"I love you, Sylvia," breathed Minerva, "I want you to be mine forever. Marry me, Sylvia! Please!"

Sylvia replied, "I love you too," and Minerva drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, Sylvia had already fled, leaving just a note- enchanted to forever smell of rosewater- explaining the entire circumstances. Minerva cried for days. She took to locking herself away in the Gryffindor tower, and began skipping classes. She was in agony but could talk to no one but Prof. Dumbledore and her diary about it. Her heart had broken beyond repair. No charm could be strong enough to ever heal it. And she vowed to never love another as long as she lived.

Years later, she'd continued to take Albus Dumbledore's place two times over. Her life had gone on and her heart had healed. But Minerva McGonagall still loved her, a hundred years down the line. "An everlasting love." she whispered to herself at her desk in the Office of the Headmistress with a tender, aged, hand over her heart. She opened the desk drawer where Dumbledore had once kept the painting of his lover and pulled out an aged piece of paper. She smelled it. "_Rosewater_." she sighed.


End file.
